


angel smoke and reverance

by bronbaewr



Category: Moon Knight (Comics)
Genre: Abstract, Dissociation, Ficlet, Kinda, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27236809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bronbaewr/pseuds/bronbaewr
Summary: He finds and is found and is lost in the flames.(A very melodramatic retelling of the culmination of Scarlet and Moon Knight's mental link, courtesy of our friendly neighborhood omniscient bastard)
Relationships: Khonshu & Marc Spector, Marc Spector & Scarlet Fasinera
Kudos: 5





	angel smoke and reverance

The prismatic glass crunches underfoot, telegraphing his arrival almost as much as his vestments, which glow in the candlelight. His heart tugs him forwards despite his legs’ protest, ever on and on to… something _broken_.

Vaguely, he recognizes the place. An old, run-down church that squats in the slums, all rotting wood and boarded windows. The inside is lit up in flickering fires that bounce against his eyes, plunging him into a sky full of stars.

His mind is not his, not now, now it belongs to fire and blood and suffering, more suffering than he alone can feel. He feels lost, and angry, and in love in the worst possible way, the way that eats up his insides and fills him with scorpions. He _burns_ , and some part of him, along the frayed edges, is content.

“My angel.”

He blinks out of his reverie, forces himself to focus on what’s in front of him. It’s a woman, a mother, victim and savior of the world.

“You’ve come to me, at last.”

“I…” He struggles to think, to use his cotton-filled mouth. There’s something scratchy rubbing against his chapped lips (a mask?), and he raises a hand to remove it.

“No!”

He stops.

“You… are not human. You _cannot_ be. Please.”

A twinge of empathy echoes through his chest, and he pushes it away. After all, he is not human. He is…

“What am I?”

The woman smiles softly and stands before him. Pleading reverence is etched along her face like canyons bored by ancient rivers.

“Oh, my dear, you are Savior. You are Angel, you are… you’re…” She weeps now, and falls to his feet. “My love, you are my sweet death.”

The angel, all in white, kneels also before her. He feels the pain of her crusade as waves of volcanic ash that cloak his mind with the aftermath of disaster, making him into malleable stone.

His voice is dry as he responds, “What do you want me to be?”

All she can do is sob.

The stars flicker and shine and fill the empty sky with sweet-smelling smoke. Every moment is colored by painted blood like ochre and charcoal and chalk in that ages-old artwork of sin and purity. Within his role, the angel closes his tired eyes and listens to the anguish of the sin-streaked world he was borne unto, and asks his god; “Is it enough?”

The moon winks at his son and reflects, as he always does, that which is already known.

The angel stands, woman in red still clutching his robes, and returns the way he came. She screams after him, and it permeates his unbolted mind, and her pain brings him clarity.

The moon laughs, and the stars go out.

**Author's Note:**

> I thiiiiiiink I might add to this and make it frank/marc first meeting fluff thats like, hella not canon compliant, but i wanna actually read some punisher comics first hdsfkjhfdj


End file.
